Henceforth I ask not good fortune—I myself am good fortune;
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing.
Strong and content, I travel the open road.
In this poem from Leaves of Grass, Whitman imagines traveling on the open road as the ultimate egalitarian experience, where beggars and drunkards find themselves beside an eloping couple, a doctor, and a rich man. “None are but accepted—none are but dear to me!” Whitman exclaims. He wants the reader to keep moving with him, never settling for long, never staying indoors, celebrating the joy of the journey.